


Love, At First

by magniloquentChanteuse



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Love at First Sight, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Slow Burn, They aren't starting off on the best foot, at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magniloquentChanteuse/pseuds/magniloquentChanteuse
Summary: Once Upon a time, there was a beauty and a beast. Or would Cinderella be closer? Once upon a time there was a little mermaid?None of the fairy tales really seemed to fit their situation: one was a hero, and one was a merc paid eighty thousand bucks to take him out. Wade was confident, though, that he'd work it out: love at first sight was straight out of a storybook, and he would get a happy ending out of this if it killed him.As long as he could keep Spider-Man from ending up dead in the meantime, everything should be fine.





	1. Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr post that reads:
> 
> Love at first sight? Tired, boring.  
> Love at first assassination attempt? Spicy

“Eighty thousand dollars,” Weasel announced, shoving a business card under Wade’s nose. Wade blinked at him, head tipping to the side.

“Well that’s a hell of a payout,” he commented, noticing the way Weasel was staring him down.

“Tough target,” Weasel answered with a shrug, trying to look calmer than he probably was. “We’ve gone through a lot of mercs already, and now the client’s just looking to get the job done, whatever it takes.”

“I  _ do  _ like the  _ whatever it takes _ jobs,” Deadpool sighed, scratching lazily at his cheek. Weasel still hadn’t removed the card from his face and it was getting kind of annoying, so Wade took it from his fingers. “Who’s the mark?”

Maybe it was the president, Wade thought dreamily. If it wasn’t, he might just add it on as a free perk anyway.

“Spider-Man,” Weasel said, and oh,  _ that _ explained why the barkeep was so nervous about bringing the job to him.

“Oh, come on,” Deadpool groaned, dropping his head back in exasperation. “You know I love Spider-Man.”

“You haven’t even met him,” Weasel groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, no duh, because he’d try and arrest me and I think he’s awesome so I don’t want to fight him.” Deadpool shook the card accusingly at Weasel. “You knew that I wouldn’t want this job, so why’d you even bring it up?”

“Because my reputation is on the line here, Wade.” Weasel was scowling at him, now. “I’ve got a business to run, here. And if none of my mercs can take this job, that reflects badly on  _ me _ and  _ my _ establishment. Look: it’s eighty thousand. That’s the biggest bounty you’ll have taken in, what, two years? Just take the job, Wade. As a favor to me. Think of all the shit I’ve done for you over the years.”

Wade considered pointing out that Weasel had a bad habit of flaking out on him, but instead he propped his cheek against his chin and debated pouting. In the end, he just hummed his assent and relented. “Alright, Weasel. For you. But I hope you know that this goes against my basic moral code.”

“Basic moral code?” Weasel scoffed, shaking his head. He cast a glance towards the door as it opened and nodded at the burly men coming in. “You don’t have a moral code, get over yourself.”

“I do so,” Wade sniffed, pushing himself to his feet. “In fact, it’s only due to the demands of my moral code that I’m going to walk away right now instead of hopping this bar and pissing in your whiskey.”

“You’re on the clock,” Weasel reminded him, turning away to do something behind the bar, and Wade couldn’t resist petulantly reaching over to knock the glass Weasel was drinking from onto the floor. He ignored the cry of indignation from behind him as he strolled out the door, mind already shifting to his new job. Weasel was right, he relented. It had been a while since someone had offered him this much money for… well,  _ anything _ .

Deadpool looked at the card still clutched in gloved fingers. There wasn’t much information on it, he noticed.

Spider-Man, the card read. New York City. Proof of death required.

It was tragic, but hey, it  _ was _ eighty thou. He could take down Spider-Man for that kind of money.

The real question was how to find him, Wade thought, then had to dismiss his dramatics as ridiculous immediately. After all, finding him was going to be easy as pie. The guy was a notorious goody-two-shoes. Literally all Wade was going to have to do was make some kind of scene in public, and Spider would come running, looking to put a stop to it. The real question, he corrected himself, was how to  _ beat  _ him.

Plenty of people had tried, he knew. And plenty of people had ended up in jail. And while, sure, Deadpool was unlikely to end up in a prison yard, he didn’t much want to risk Spider-Man getting it into his head that maybe the mercenary ought to be behind bars.

He fantasized for a while about their potential conflict. They would probably be pretty reasonably matched. Sure, Wade was basically the best there was, but Spider-Man was far from scraping the bottom of the barrel himself, and Wade didn’t have any kind of prior experience dealing with him. He was kind of going in blind, here.

Well, okay, aside from the countless hours of Youtube videos about him. And the news stories. And every interview he’d ever been coerced into giving, Wade, relented. He did have all that as background knowledge, he supposed, so that was nice. A little bit of an edge.

He ought to pick up more guns. He might need more guns.

No— he cut off his own train of thought, disgusted with himself. As if Spider-Man didn’t know how to fight a  _ gunman _ . He needed to do something else. Something unexpected. Something that would be sure to take him by surprise. A bomb, maybe.

No, no, not that, either. He didn’t want to take any normies out with Spidey, if he didn’t have to. The katanas would do for a surprise, he decided. As far as he was aware, the average Spider-Man villain didn’t run around dual wielding swords.

Hey! Maybe he ought to get that trademarked before he lost the opportunity and somebody else started butting in on his schtick. 

Wade tapped a gloved finger thoughtfully against his mouth, hidden away under the mask. So was he really considering a straightforward brawl as an actual attempt to defeat Spider-Man? He really wasn’t entirely sure that would work, but hell, it was his  _ specialty _ . He could probably manage something sneaky if he really tried, Deadpool thought with a grimace. He could snipe him or something. Sneak up to him while he was petting kittens or eating hot dogs or whatever it was spider-themed vigilantes did in their spare time. 

That probably wouldn’t work. But it was a mental image he could enjoy: sneaking up on Spider-Man and scaring the shit out of him. Maybe making him finally drop his public angel face and curse in front of a gaggle of children or something.  _ That _ would be funny.

No, Deadpool snapped as he caught himself. No, bad Deadpool. The target was  _ not _ for pranking, the target was for  _ fighting _ . Marks were not playmates, they were adversaries that were standing between Wade and his paycheck.

He frowned down at the cracked, dimly lit sidewalk under his feet as he slumped through the run-down New York streets. It was kind of fun, for a while, to imagine himself as a gritty detective, complete with growly voiceover, but honestly, when one was lacking a trench coat and matching hat, how long could one expect to hold on to that kind of fantasy? It was untenable without the proper getup.

Deadpool grimaced, one hand reaching up to grip the hilt of his katana, strapped dutifully to his back. He was really, really trying to avoid thinking about what it was that he was planning to do, but he kept running out of distractions and it was becoming somewhat disheartening.

He had to fight Spider-Man. He had to beat him. He had to  _ defeat  _ him.

He puckered his lips. He had to kill him. He didn’t like to use that word a lot, if he could help it, but it was the truth and it was staring him right in the face. He was going to have to kill Spider-Man.

God, that sucked. He  _ liked _ Spider-Man. Or, at least, the idea of him? Wade had to admit that as many videos as he watched online, he still didn’t really  _ know _ Spider-Man. It was hard to say that he liked him on a personal level.

(But that didn’t mean that Wade wasn’t going to  _ try  _ to say that. He’d really, really like to be able to say that with all honesty.)

But alas, it wasn’t fated to be. 

“Maybe in the next life,” Deadpool lamented to himself aloud, letting go of his sword handle. “Assuming I ever fucking get there.”

He found something else to wonder about for a few minutes: was Spider-Man even mortal? Was he a guy with superpowers? Or was he something more than that? Something…  _ cooler? _

Nah, he was probably just a guy with strangely spider-themed superpowers. That was cool, too. He found himself wishing that he hadn’t seen pictures and video of Spider’Man in the past, because he suddenly really wanted to truly believe that Spider-Man was part spider. With, like, eight legs or something.

But alas, that wasn’t fated either.

That didn’t mean that Deadpool and Spidey weren’t fated to be, though, Deadpool thought wistfully, a smile curling up under his mask like a kitten. It was so, so easy to daydream about himself and the masked hero. Holding hands. Getting down and dirty. Meeting up late at night to talk until the sun came up.

What could he say? Wade was still a sap, sometimes, despite everything. A true romantic.

So when should Wade try and pull it off? Logic said that he should wait, plan out the encounter a little, make sure he had the upper hand. But, shit, Wade really wasn’t much of a logical solutions kind of guy. He was more of a… winging it kind of guy. Just kind of… going for it kind of guy.

It felt unfaithful to himself and his modus operandi to change that up now. If it wasn’t broken, don’t fix it and all that, right? Might as well give it a shot— the good old fashioned Deadpool way. After all, Weasel said that several mercs had already been hired and taken down by the webslinger. They had probably tried planning. Wade couldn’t afford to try things that other people already had. 

They were probably in jail, now, Deadpool mused. Maybe he ought to give them a visit. Talk it out. What had gone wrong? They could workshop it.

No! That was the same as overthinking. Wade would just… lure him in at the first opportunity, and get the show on the road. It would have to be somewhere the webhead was likely to show up quickly; he didn’t want to get bogged down with cops if Spidey took too long. After all, proof of the hero’s death was required. He might need to bring back the body.

Wade let out another hefty sigh. Just the thought of it was bumming him out. It was about time to shake off the gloomies, though, he told himself with a wry twitch of his lips. He couldn’t afford to carry this kind of unprofessionalism around when it came time to take out his mark. That’s what Spider-Man was, now, he told himself firmly. Starting now. That’s all Spider-Man was going to be. A mark. Spider-Mark, one might say.

Deadpool trotted down into the subway, putting on his cheery face as he forcibly shoved the disappointment from his mind. He was a  _ professional _ , damnit. 

Riding the subway was always weird. Whether he was in his suit or not, no one felt comfortable with him there. When he wasn’t in the suit, people could see the scars: thick, matted skin like knots just under the flesh. He could hear whispers, and sometimes blatant disgust, from other passengers, and people tried to move away from him like they were afraid he was contagious. When he was wearing the old red and black, come to think of it, it wasn’t much different. No one wanted to ride in the seat next to the gun-toting, sword-clutching masked maniac.

Sometimes he was mistaken for Spider-Man, though, and that was always fun. He was always careful not to besmirch the hero’s reputation when he was dealing with the identity swap. He didn’t know that Spider-Man was aware of his efforts, but hey, he would probably appreciate them if he was.

Deadpool settled into a seat and, predictably, the trio of old women nearby scooted a little further away. Wade didn’t let it bother him. He was thinking about Spider-Man again.

The guy had something of a mixed reputation, he supposed. If he didn’t, there was no way Deadpool would have ever taken this job. If he was purely a good guy, one hundred percent on the level, Deadpool would have outright refused. After all, Wade didn’t kill innocents! Or, at least, he tried his very best not to.

But The Daily Bugle was publishing all the time about all the bad things he did. And sure, some of the articles seemed kind of ill-researched, or maybe a little biased, but shit, there was a lot of incriminating evidence that the paper managed to turn up. And matched with those snappy pictures! They were probably the best ones in the city. He didn’t know of a match anywhere. He was practically a Peter Parker fanboy, that guy got so many pictures of Deadpool’s favorite hero.

Not very many of those pictures would be very helpful in a combat situation, though, Wade chastised himself, so he needed to get that off of his mind. He was all business, he reminded himself. And although he had slipped up, just now, thinking of Spider-Man as his favorite hero, from this point on Spider-Man was just a mark. Starting now. 

Wade thought of his favorite picture and let out a shuddery little sigh.

Starting… now.

Wade got off the subway in Queens. The crowds magically parted around him and Wade decided not to think about the fact that it was probably because his fingers were starting to twitch towards the guns strapped to his hips. He felt like an old west cowboy, he thought cheerfully, imagining himself with a ten gallon hat.

Cool.

Spider-Man probably wasn’t so tough, Wade decided. He didn’t even fully commit to beating people, after all: just sending them off to jail was no way to get a bad guy to give up his life of crime. The only  _ real _ way to rehabilitate a villain was to make him give up his  _ life  _ altogether. Whether he wanted to or not.

Murder. Deadpool was talking about murder.

Wade hooked his fingers in his belt, reverting to his newly-birthed cowboy personality in order to saunter down the street, fingers stroking his pistols in a way that had people scurrying away from him faster. Spidey was going to be on him like butter on bread in no time at all, at this rate, and Wade hadn’t even had an opportunity to make a scene yet. He’d better get on that soon if he didn’t want to miss his chance to start drama.

Cowboy Wade yanked one pistol from its holster, whacked his hand with it as he tried to give it an old west spin, then shot it straight into the air. There were screams as people dropped to the ground or ducked away from him, trying to avoid what they surely assumed would be a string of gunfire. Those poor jamokes. Deadpool felt kind of bad about scaring them. Except not  _ that  _ bad, because they were fine, but shit. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t feel a  _ little _ bad.

“Where’s the sheriff a’ this here town?” Deadpool drawled, trying to spin the gun again and nearly dropping it. How did cowboy desperados make it look so easy? “And by sheriff I mean Spider-Man. There ain’t room enough for two red skin-tight suit wearin’ superbro’s ‘round these parts.”

“You’re right,” A voice called back from somewhere above him. Deadpool’s head tipped back and there, clinging upside down to a building (cool!) was Spider-Man. He was far enough away that he had to yell to be heard, but it was still closer than Deadpool had ever been to him. “There’s no room at all in this town for jerks who start gunfights for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason,” Wade called back, propping his hands on his hips as he thumbed lightly against the hilt of his still-sheathed pistol, thinking about the katana on his back. His beautiful, beautiful katanas, he thought fondly. “There’s a really  _ good _ reason, in fact. Only thing is, I don’t think you’d like it.”

Spidey called something back, but the sound of a distant siren distracted Wade from his response. The distance didn’t help, either. But before he could call back to ask Spider-Man to repeat his banter so Wade could reply, the vigilante had launched himself downward, directly towards Deadpool.

He barely had time to get off a shot, but time seemed to slow as he did. He watched the graceful way Spider-Man spun out of the way, twisting his body like an acrobat to avoid the bullet before it even left his barrel.

Deadpool stepped out of the way of the incoming webslinger and as he flew past, they locked eyes through their masks. The passing seconds slowed further as time lingered impossibly, giving Deadpool time to register his heart pounding in his chest and a heat rising to his cheeks.

Okay. Okay, Wade, reel it in. Spider-Mark. Starting now.

Starting… starting now.

Starting…  _ now _ .

_ Fuck. _


	2. There Was a Handsome Prince

Spider-Man landed on his feet with a grace that didn’t seem possible to Wade, but there wasn’t much time to enjoy the sight because Spider-Man was already coming after him. Wade had to lunge into a roll to dodge a spray of webs, and a bullet in the general direction of the hero was the only way to keep him from getting snared by another one.

Even the half-hearted attempt to land a bullet on Spidey sent his heart leaping with worry. Had he hit him? No, no, from the way he was leaping into the air, it looked like he was alright. No cry of pain, he realized with relief. No signs of blood. Spider-Man had dodged.

“Careful, Webs,” Wade called, grinning as his conscience eased. “You almost hit me, there,”

“You’re one to talk,” Spidey answered from where he’d landed, clinging upside down to the glass windows of a towering hotel. Something about it was painfully hot, but he wasn’t sure what. No, he decided, abruptly changing his mind. He knew  _ exactly _ what. He could see Spider-Man’s butt. That’s what it was.  _ Awesome _ . “You’re the one  _ shooting _ at me!”

“Aw, honey,” Deadpool crooned, pressing his hands to his cheeks. “You don’t really think I’d hurt you, do you?”

“Um,  _ yeah _ ,” Spidey sassed, and Wade was positive that those two words had him falling even deeper in love. It was a mistake to lose focus, though, because Spider-Man was on him faster than he could have anticipated, launching downwards off the building to bodily tackle him to the ground. Wade barely got himself together in time to kick Spider-Man off, sending the smaller man flying over Wade’s head. Deadpool scrambled hastily to his feet, getting off two more shots towards the red-clad hero as he leapt out of the way again.

Had he missed on purpose? Deadpool had to question his own actions as he watched Spider-Man swing a manhole cover in a loop around him. He wasn’t entirely sure that Spidey was avoiding these bullets on his own merit. It was totally possible that he was, of course, Wade acknowledged as he sprinted out of the way of the oncoming projectile. If he couldn’t dodge a few bullets, he wouldn’t still be out here on the streets doing this hero thing. Dodging bullets was kind of a required skill, in that line of work.

But Wade’s attraction to the hero was undeniable, he had to admit. Was he hesitating too long? Was he squeezing the trigger too early or too late? Was he just taking too long to aim? He didn’t  _ want _ to shoot Spider-Man, he thought with a sigh. But he’d accepted the contract. He couldn’t afford  _ not _ to kill Spider-Man. It wasn’t even about the money, so much, but if people heard he’d tried to kill Spidey and  _ failed…  _ well, his reputation would just never be the same.

And he’d promised Weasel, he thought with a grimace. He’d told his friend that he’d get the job done. If he failed that, then that was a whole other kind of disappointment in himself. If there was one thing Wade was, it was faithful to his friends. Sometimes. When he wanted to be.

And he did want to be, Wade told himself as he dodged behind a parked car, peeking through the windows to see Spidey jumping after him. He didn’t want to let Weasel down. So he’d just have to buck up, he told himself firmly, and get the job done. Spider-Mark, he reminded himself.

Starting  _ now _ .

By the time Spider-Man appeared, peering over the top of the car, Wade has his gun pointed up at him. “Hey baby,” Wade winked behind his mask, hoping it got across, as he pulled the trigger. The bullet traveled right through where Spider-Man had  _ just been _ , and Wade was forced once again to admire the hero. He was  _ fast, _ he thought with fascination as he jumped to his feet and shot two more bullets. Spider-Man was quick to move in, after that: he grabbed Deadpool by both wrists and tossed him like a damn rag doll over the top of the car.

Wade wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but he popped up with no guns in his hands. Where did they go? He wasted only a moment glancing around for them— guns were expensive, after all— before drawing two new ones.

_ Bang bang bang bang!  _ Four shots in quick succession, and Wade watched in astonishment as Spider-Man dodged each and everyone of them with gymnastics that were not only, as far as he knew, physically impossible, but also almost too fast for the human eye to follow.

“Ooh baby,” Wade crooned. “I wish you’d let me make you do that in  _ bed _ .”

“What?” Spider-Man’s voice was openly surprised, but the pick-up line didn’t distract him enough that he let Wade’s next volley of bullets hit him. He frog-hopped a car, ducking down just in time as Deadpool shot out the windows. The glass must be raining down on the hero, and Deadpool took the opportunity to rush forward, letting the sound cover the sound of his approach. Good thing he wasn’t wearing his tap shoes today, Wade praised himself brightly.

He leapt over the car and fired towards Spider-Man, but  _ damn it _ , the kid was smart: he hadn’t waited, cowering, for the glass shower to end. He had already moved, and Deadpool’s bullets embedded themselves harmlessly in the abandoned car. Next thing Wade knew, there was webbing over his eyes and he was being thrown again.

Note to self, he thought, feeling it this time when Spider-Man yanked the guns out of his hands.  _ Invest in a cup _ .

He staggered back to his feet, blind, kind of achy, and more than a little impressed. Wade reached up to rip the webbing off his mask, but in the crucial moments it took to do so, Spider-Man had webbed both of his feet to the ground and jumped forward to shove him right in the middle of his chest. Wade yelped, windmilling his arms as he tried to regain his balance, but with his feet stuck firmly to the asphalt, there wasn’t much he could do, and he went sprawling.

“My safeword is Beetlejuice,” Deadpool gasped out, staring up as Spider-Man loomed over him. The hero snorted, deliberately sealing both wrists to the ground with two well-placed shots of web.

“Like the movie or the star?” Spidey questioned him, morbidly curious, from sound of it.

“The movie,” Wade answered, testing the strength of his bonds. Okay. This would be tough to get out of, all trussed up like this. “It keeps me from wimping out too frequently.”

“Can’t say it three times,” Spidey agreed, but he was distracted by something, looking away down the street. “Welp, I’d better get going.”

“What?” Deadpool frowned up at him. “Where are you going?”

“To find some other bad guy to fight with,” Spidey quipped. “Don’t worry, the police will be here in just a minute, so you won’t be lonely for long.”

“No way, baby,” Wade whined. “You’re going to fight someone else? I thought we had something special.”

Spider-Man scoffed, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to the side, those big white eyes aimed directly at Wade. “You wish,” he threw up his arms and web sprang from his wrists, and before Deadpool could get out another retort, Spidey was swinging away.

Wow. He was  _ good _ .

Deadpool could hear, now, what must have driven Spider-Man away from the scene: police sirens, rapidly growing closer.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Deadpool said aloud, frowning. “That is so not going to fit in my schedule today.” He lifted his head to look at himself: webbed at both wrists, both feet flat on the ground, knees bent. Not as bad as it could have been, he admitted to himself. 

He leveraged himself upwards as far as he could go, leaning heavily on his right side. It was as simple as yanking sharply to pry up the edges of the web on his left hand, and he noticed with delight that he probably hadn’t even broken the wrist. It took several more pulls with his not  _ technically _ enhanced, but definitely kind of enhanced, strength to pull the first hand free.

There was a reason Spidey felt comfortable leaving people wrapped up in this stuff without supervision, he supposed with a grimace, pulling sticky, sticky webbing from his right hand. If it wasn’t strong, it wouldn’t get the job done. Wade was lucky that Spider-Man apparently didn’t realize that  _ this _ mercenary was a little stronger than your average Joe with a gun.

Wade freed his feet in just enough time to stand and sprint away from the scene, flashing lights appearing at the end of the block as he hightailed it out of the area. Not that Deadpool couldn’t take on a few cops, but he’d really rather  _ not _ . The guys were just doing their jobs, after all, and Wade didn’t really want to have to kill them.

Besides, he had broken the law. He couldn’t really blame them for trying to arrest him. Especially considering that they didn’t even know it was him. The responding officers had no idea what they were getting into, trying to take Deadpool in.

It was kind of a hassle, getting out of the hot seat; despite the fact that the stalled traffic on the road had blocked the police from immediately following him down the street, that hadn’t stopped them from taking the long way around. And sure, Wade was fast… but he was on foot. These guys had cars. Not exactly fair, in his opinion, but hey, he would roll with the punches.

At least being on foot gave him the opportunity to use venues not available to roving cop cars: fire escapes.

The relative safety of the rooftop wasn’t exactly a best case scenario, but hell, it was better than the street. Wade tucked himself into a corner, where hopefully Spidey wouldn’t notice him if he was still in the area, and sat his sorry ass down.

Time to work through some stuff with himself, Wade told himself firmly. And no moping.

Why the hell hadn’t he gotten Spider-Man? What had gotten into him? Sure, once the fight really got going, he’d lost in earnest. He’d underestimated Spider-Man, despite himself, and the man had turned out to be more than a match for even Wade’s skills.

But at the beginning, he had time. He could have shot Spider-Man, but he was almost certain, now, that he’d hesitated.  _ Why had he done that? _

Wade’s phone buzzed and he grimaced. It took some fumbling in the pouches around his belt to find it, buried in crumbled receipts and loose bullets, but with a small shower of pennies, he managed to pull it free. A new text had just come in, he saw, frowning at the name before opening it.

**Weasel: You move fast ill give you that.**

**Weasel: Its all over the news already that you’re out there fighting Spider-Man.**

**Weasel: Hmu when youre done and ill pass it along the line.**

**Weasel: Dont forget the proof.**

**Wade: He got away pumpkin**

**Weasel: Are you fucking serious**

**Wade: Sorry baby ill get him next time i promise**

**Weasel: You’d better. I cant afford to have you screwing this up wade.**

**Wade: Aw sweetie dont be like that u know im gonna get the job done**

**Wade: Second trys the charm as they always say**

**Weasel: No one ever says that.**

**Wade: i just did ;P**

Deadpool turned away from his phone, eyes skimming over the skyline, but there was no sign of the masked webslinger. That was for the best: he was down four guns, there were police crawling all over, and he was  _ not _ prepared to take Spidey on again just yet. Not planning hadn’t really worked out for him, he had to admit. Maybe he ought to actually put some thought into how he was going to take him down.

Sure, that hadn’t worked out for the other guys, Deadpool thought as his motivation pumped back up. But those other guys weren’t Wade! Wade was simply the best in the business, and he wasn’t about to let some other schmuck’s mistakes hold him back from finishing his job.

Wade had some planning to do, for sure, but it would have to wait until he got home to really get going. He wouldn’t have a problem scribbling out a plan on the back of one of these receipts, he thought glumly, but all the sirens were  _ very _ distracting.

Or maybe he was distracting himself with the mental image of that Spidey booty. 

It didn’t matter! Either way, Project Spider-Mark was officially in effect, and he was going to bring the web-slinging wall-crawler down, no matter what it took. It was a matter of professional pride and Wade wasn’t about to let something as silly as his absolutely devastating infatuation with the hero keep him from doing his job.

He  _ would _ kill Spider-Man, he determined firmly. He wasn’t going to let him get away a second time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello pals old and new! Welcome to my new fic.
> 
> If you're familiar with me as an author you probably know that I tend to post chapters once a week-- well this one will proooobably be just a little slower. Right now I'm thinking I'll post chapters for this fic every other Wednesday, but we'll have to see how it works out. I've only written this first chapter, so far, so I'm not entirely sure how quickly I'll be churning them out. If I can't keep up it might slow down, but if I get more than maybe four chapters ahead of the posted works, I might update once a week. We'll see.
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think!


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